


the story of us

by hanzios



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27368800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanzios/pseuds/hanzios
Summary: This little crush on the doctor has gone on for far too long now, and the little devil in his brain is telling him that it’s perfectly normal; that he can look, but he can’t touch. That’s hard to abide by when he’s never felt a touch as gentle as Jackson’s.OR: Mackson moments during S3, and why Jackson took the A.L.I.E. chip + additional scene in the bunker
Relationships: Bryan & Nathan Miller, Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	the story of us

**Author's Note:**

> i really enjoyed writing this! i'm pretty sure mackson has crossed paths in arkadia before, but ofc, that didn't lead to anything until a few days before praimfaya. 
> 
> enjoy!

Nate just can’t stop staring at Jackson.

This little crush has gone on for far too long now, and the little devil in his brain is telling him that it’s perfectly normal; that he can look, but he can’t touch. That’s hard to abide by when he’s never felt a touch as gentle as Jackson’s.

He’s sitting in Med Bay after a pretty minor injury during training. Nate considers himself pretty skilled in combat, but today they were sparring against trained Ark guards. The 18-year-old didn’t stand a chance. It took about a minute of strenuous fighting before the man had sliced his knife along Nate’s arm.

Lucky for him, the guy was punished accordingly. They weren’t supposed to _hurt_ their spar-partner anyway.

But as Nate was being escorted towards Med Bay by his own father, a hand pressed on his bloody arm, he thought, _A visit to the good doctor was long overdue, anyway._

“ _Ow_ ,” Nate winces as Jackson applies an ointment into his wound. The man looks at him with apologetic eyes and a small ‘sorry,’ and instantly, Nate feels fine. As if the doctor’s presence and intense stare is medicine enough.

They’re sitting on two metal chairs near the operation table, their knees in between each other’s, almost touching at the thighs. Jackson has one hand holding Nate’s injured arm as the other is grabbing at cotton balls and antiseptic, disinfecting his wound.

“I wish I didn’t see you this much,” Jackson says over the silence. Nate’s heart almost drops when the man adds, “I think I’ve already treated you five times in a span of two weeks. All different injuries.”

Nate snorts. “No kidding. It’s not like I enjoy draining your medical supplies.”

Jackson lets out a breath that almost sounds like laughter. “Maybe try not to get stabbed. Or shot. Or bruised next time?” He suggests in a mocking tone, head bobbing slightly at every sentence. Nate raises his brows, a grin on his face.

_So, the doctor knows how to make jokes, huh?_

Arkadia is small and rumors travel quickly. Nate isn’t prone to listening to gossip, either. One topic of conversation – among _many_ well-known subjects like Clarke, Bellamy, and Lincoln – was the lone, handsome doctor who mostly kept to himself. Nate has heard many things about Jackson; none of them were that he was funny.

The man’s dry humor kind of reminds Nate of himself.

Jackson removes his grip on Nate’s arm, leaving him to hover it mid-air. He twists over slightly to the table beside him, grabbing the fresh roll of bandages from his tray of equipment.

“You’re lucky you don’t need stitches,” he says. He’s particularly chatty today.

“ _Lucky_ ,” Nate repeats sardonically as the doctor wraps the bandage around his arm. It doesn’t take him long to finish, though; careful hands working around Nate’s injury.

Jackson tells him to change the bandage every day, and other things Nate already knows. He didn’t live through the fight versus Grounders and the fight versus Mount Weather without knowing a little first-aid, after all.

The doctor stands up to clear his supplies, and Nate soon follows.

“Thanks,” he says, already starting to walk outside.

“I better not see you here anytime soon,” Jackson says, throwing a quick pointed look up at Nathan before going back to work.

Nate snorts. “Yeah. Like I have a clean track record.”

He leaves through the door after that, not waiting to see Jackson’s amused reaction – a wide, beaming smile and a bright twinkle in his deep ochre eyes.

+

Just as the doctor advised, Nate didn’t come through Med Bay much after that. Most of it is attributed to the fact that he’s trying to avoid any further injuries and actually taking care of his body. Part of it, and he won’t admit it, is that talking to someone he thinks is attractive makes him feel like he’s cheating on Bryan.

Nate’s not sure if his boyfriend is even _alive,_ but he’s waiting for him, nonetheless.

He decides that his crush on the doctor is solely because he’s simply bored and touch-starved. It’s no secret he misses the warmth of another man beside him (particularly Bryan). And although there are plenty of queer men in Arkadia, he’s not about to throw his relationship away for lousy, casual sex.

So, he’ll look, but he won’t touch.

And to do that, he has to stop coming by Medical for little cuts and bruises. Easy enough.

Nate and Bellamy have been lounging at the cafeteria, talking about whatever, when the man was summoned by Clarke. For most of them, even getting to sit down and rest for an hour is a luxury, and the two friends have been talking for hours now. So, Nate promptly let him go.

However, he’s in no rush.

He allows himself a moment of peace, sipping his glass of moonshine generously, when his eyes spot a familiar figure entering the room.

It’s weird seeing Jackson out of the context of Med Bay.

Nate _knows_ Jackson doesn’t live there (or at least he thinks he doesn’t?), but he also didn’t think the man had much of a social life, either (despite actually being a great conversationalist). Come to think of it, Jackson does look like he needs a friend or two. Before he could get the better of himself, Nate throws his hand up, waving to signal himself to the man.

Jackson spots him and smiles.

_So much for avoiding Medical._

“Fancy seeing you here,” Nate says. Jackson doesn’t sit, just hovers awkwardly beside the table.

“I’m actually just passing by,” he admits, mouth clipped. “I like walking. It clears my mind off things, calms me down. You?”

Nate tips his glass. “ _Drinking_. Like a normal person.” He takes a swig to illustrate his point.

Jackson chuckles. He lets his laughter die down before his face sobers up. He takes the seat opposite Nate and swallows, voice low. “Um, I’m sorry about your boyfriend.” Nate looks up at that.

From any other person, those words might sound cavalier, but Jackon’s eyes only hold genuine concern. Nate’s mouth runs dry. He opens and closes his mouth to try and speak before actually managing to stammer out, “How did you know about that?”

The doctor looks guilty. “Your father talks about you a lot. He’s mentioned it a number of times.”

 _Of course._ Briefly, Nate wonders who else his father had told about his tragic love life. He doesn’t want to know. Finally, he settles on a determined look to Jackson. “He’s not dead, you know. Just missing.”

He nods in understanding. “And I hope you find him.”

On that note, Jackson stands. He says something about going back to his walk before leaving Nate alone. The younger man only watches his retreating figure, both hands in his jacket pocket as he exits the room in quick strides.

+

Nate _does_ find him, three days later.

He’s never been as happy as when he saw Bryan come out of the remains of Farm Station, the same bright smile and twinkle in his eyes. Nate had hugged him as tight as he could, holding him, before pressing a kiss into his mouth – one that was months and months overdue.

Bryan moved into his room when they’d arrived at Arkadia, the both of them talking the whole way through. His boyfriend had a whole bag full of his personal possessions – something Nate certainly didn’t have – and it fit perfectly into their new bedroom, filling the empty spaces on the bed and on the drawers.

Finally, Nate thinks, he could relax.

Unfortunately, his little moment of peace doesn’t last long. Because in between Grounders threatening to wipe them off and Jaha’s new cult of crazies, _Pike_ up and decided to become a dictator all of a sudden after winning their very democratic election. Nate didn’t like him one bit, not after massacring a sleeping army who’d been sent to help them.

(Nate’s not exactly a big fan of Grounders, either, but something about what Pike had done rubbed him the wrong way.)

Nathan isn’t the type of guy who smiles and bites his tongue. So, that night, as they’re preparing to sleep, he says, throwing on a shirt, “I can’t believe this guy is running Arkadia.”

Bryan’s already on the bed, flipping through one of the books he brought with him. He looks at Nathan with furrowed brows. “Who? Pike?”

“Who else?” Nate retorts, slipping under the covers. He puts an arm around Bryan, who immediately settles on his chest.

The boy doesn’t reply for a long while, before deciding on, “He kept us alive. I trust him.”

Nate scoffs, weaving his fingers through Bryan’s soft hair. “ _He_ murdered three-hundred people.”

“He saved us.”

“Bry, they were _sleeping._ ”

“Can we not do this tonight?” Bryan detaches himself from Nate’s grip, turning to look at him with pleading eyes. Nate blinks at him, almost retorting, before he finally nods. He cups his boyfriend’s chiseled jaw, stroking his skin, pulling him close for a chaste kiss.

Nate’s got Bryan beside him now, warm and alive; he’s not about to let him go that easy.

+

He doesn’t think of Jackson much after that.

Although Nate still comes to Med Bay occasionally, striking up small conversations with the doctor, it doesn’t go any further than that. And, thankfully, his brain doesn’t go to dangerous territory around him anymore, which makes Nate assume that it _was_ just his loneliness talking from before.

Besides, the guard has too much on his plate. Being part of an anti-government group (with _Marcus Kane,_ of all people) sworn to overthrow Pike’s dictatorship is stressful enough. He has spent most of his time sneaking around everyone he loves, including his boyfriend, risking getting charged for treason and killed.

Little did he know that Bryan was sneaking around him too. When he’d found the microphone inside his jacket pocket, his heart had shattered at what Bryan had done. The trust between them was severed greatly, and Nate couldn’t even bear to look at his boyfriend anymore.

He storms out of their bedroom, more betrayed than angry, and finds himself walking to the direction of Med Bay. Or the general direction, anyway.

Before Nate could turn around, Jackson emerges from the room, walking towards him.

But funny thing is, he just looks at him, a friendly smile on his face, before walking straight past Nate.

The frustration in his chest begins to dissipate, overturned by genuine confusion. He turns and calls, “Jackson?”

It takes the doctor a second too long before responding, facing him, “Oh. Miller.”

Nate squints. “Where are you going? Out on that walk again?” he taunts, but the slight seriousness in his tone betrays him.

Jackson cocks his head, one hand on his pocket. “No,” he says, as if a question. He stares at Nate with an odd, placid expression before saying a quick goodbye and walking away.

Okay. That was _definitely_ weird.

However, Nate doesn’t dwell on it further. He sees Bryan at the end of the hall, approaching him. His heart becomes heavy at the sight of him, but he doesn’t run away. Nate remains firmly in place, and allows his boyfriend to make reparations with him.

+

The aftermath of the battle at Polis is messy, and Nate is exhausted as _hell._

He clings to Bryan with tired arms, the boy’s hands immediately flying to his back, helping to steady him. The past few days have been a series of running away from an army of brainwashed people, getting tied up by a crazy Mountain Man, and staring at Death in the eyes for an absurd number of times.

Nate isn’t quite sure how he’s still alive, but he’s grateful nonetheless.

There are reunions and relieved loved ones all around him; the others, though, aren’t so lucky.

Nate straightens his back, a hand still firm on Bryan’s shoulder, his eyes scanning the room. It doesn’t take him long to find Jackson on the floor, wide eyes darting around the room. Nate feels something bitter settle in his mouth.

“Miller,” Kane is suddenly beside him, back from being brainwashed just a minute ago. He looks tired and drained. Hell, they all do. “Abby and I will go to the ground to help the wounded. I want you, Bryan, and Jackson to stay here and assist as many people as you can. Skaikru _and_ Grounder.” He adds the last sentence as an afterthought, as if Nate would do something stupid.

“Copy that,” Nate says, voice still raspy. He watches Kane leave with the others, Bellamy and Clarke in tow, before turning to Bryan. “I’ll go help Jackson.”

“Nate–“

“You can barely stand,” he says, both hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Let me take care of this, okay?”

Bryan merely swallows. “Okay.”

Nate helps him settle to a chair, giving his hand a tight squeeze before going back to work. To his surprise, Jackson’s already treating the wounded, busying himself with a Grounder with a nasty bullet wound on his arm. It’s unsettling how only a few moments ago, Nate was trying to ward off the guy by electrocuting him.

“Here, let me,” Nate says, crouching beside him to hold up the guy’s arm.

Jackson looks at him in surprise, pausing, a bit of guilt seeping into his expression. “Thank you,” he says lowly, continuing sewing the man back up. Nate focuses on the doctor’s hands: methodical, elegant, _gentle._ His long, slender fingers work meticulously, a bit of deep red blood getting under his fingernails.

Nate wonders how Jackson had gotten himself chipped. Hell, he’s confused as to how _anyone_ would’ve willingly consumed the stupid thing. Much less a _doctor._ He knows Jackson isn’t that gullible, which is what makes the entire situation all that more confusing.

Finally, Nate couldn’t handle it anymore. “Why’d you do it?”

He hadn’t meant for his tone to come out so accusatorily, but that’s how it was delivered. He’s looking at Jackson, their elbows almost bumping. The doctor briefly pauses, glancing at him from the corner of his eye, before resuming his work.

“I have my problems,” he replies, barely a whisper.

“Was it worth it?” Nate’s voice is sharp.

Jackson looks up at him, brown eyes glassy. His stare makes Nate’s heart skip a beat.

“No,” he says simply.

Nate leaves it at that. The doctor looks bothered, his expression tense. And yet his hands tell a different story; it heals just the same.

There is something about Jackson that interests the young man greatly. Nate, unlike most people, sees depths in the doctor. From their previous brief interactions, he’s seen but little of the man’s true character. Beneath the unreadable expressions, kind smiles, and tender touches is a narrative begging to be told.

And, well, Nathan has always enjoyed a good story.

**_One year later, in the bunker_ **

“Tell me another story.”

Nate is sitting on a hospital bed, his bare torso exposed. He tries to distract himself from the pain of getting stitches without anesthesia, having denied it to save their limited resources. Jackson is working on the nasty slice tearing through his shoulder, down his chest. The antiseptic had almost been torture, but he merely grit his teeth and let his partner do the rest.

He’d been listening to Jackson talk about his life, the two of them falling into easy conversation as he worked. So far, Nate has never gotten bored by hearing him speak.

They haven’t been together for too long, so Nate is eager to unfold every page of Jackson’s book.

“I’m afraid one day I’ll run out,” the doctor says with a smile, not taking his eyes off of sewing Nathan back up. He’s sitting at a chair in front of him, his eyes leveled to Nate’s chest.

“I’m the one who just got stabbed here,” Nate jokes. “I think I earned another one.”

Jackson laughs at that. Nate loves the way he can make the man laugh in a world so dreary.

“The ‘patient’ card, I see,” he taunts right back, before stopping for a moment to think. “Hmm…” It takes him less than five seconds before he turns his head up to Nate. “Do you remember Polis? Right after A.L.I.E.?”

Nate swallows. Of course he remembers. “Yeah.”

Jackson nods, tugging at the sutures carefully. Nate grunts. “You know I can give you even a little anesthesia, Nate–“

“I’m fine,” he says in finality. “Just… tell your story.”

The doctor casts him a worried look before sighing, continuing, “You asked me why I did it. Why I took the chip.” Nate remembers. Jackson never told him the reason outright. He listens more intently.

“Why _did_ you?” Nate asks gently, hand brushing Jackson’s arm for a moment.

“Jaha told me that there was no such thing as loneliness in the City of Light,” he says, deep in thought. “There, everyone would be everyone’s friend. No more fighting, no more war. _Real_ peace. And people to share that with.” Something glazes over Jackson’s eyes. “That hit me right in the chest. All I’ve ever wanted was to have somebody – _anybody_ – to call my own. He gave me hope.”

Nate just stares down at his boyfriend with sympathetic eyes, heart aching at what Jackson had been going through less than a year before. How alone he had felt to take the chip willingly.

Jackson takes a scissor and snaps the suture before looking up at Nate, hands falling to his bare sides. Nate covers his gloved hands with his own. “Abby and I tested it. There were no negative side effects, just positive ones. It didn’t take long before I took it. _And what I felt_ … I haven’t felt that calm, that peaceful in my entire life.

“Not until you.”

Nate’s chest bursts with affection, almost undoing his fresh stitches. He reaches a hand to Jackson’s beautiful face, a thumb stroking his stubbled cheek.

“You’re my new hope,” Jackson says.

Nate’s beaming, heart full. He reaches for his boyfriend’s collar, pulling him up to stand. Their lips meet hungrily, conveying what they feel in touch and in taste. The younger man grabs Jackson’s head, drawing his body closer to him. But Jackson’s chest slams against his own, and Nate lets out a scowl into the doctor’s mouth.

Jackson immediately pulls away. “Shit, Nate, I’m so sorry.”

He purses his lips, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Tauntingly, he says, “You should _really_ stop saying stuff like that so I don’t have to kiss you.”

The doctor raises a brow, the same playful tone in his voice, “Maybe that’s why I’m saying them.”

Nate loves this. Nate loves him. ~~But he doesn’t realize that until later.~~

One year ago, if you told the young delinquent Nathan Miller that in just a few months he’d be a couple hundred feet underground, kissing and falling in love with the lone, handsome doctor he used to have a crush on, he’d think you were crazy. But, he’d sarcastically retort, with a hint of unbridled truth, that hey, at least it’d make a good story.


End file.
